Neoclassical Massacre

Sorry, not sorry, if I sound rude

But I was the first underground dude

To make a piano record with a pop attitude

Now I got so many children it's a family feud

And that was way back in 2004

Solo Piano was the album that opened the door

Today they call it neoclassical but don't confuse it

It's a stretch to even call that shit yoga music

A song without a melody is atmosphere

It's okay, but it can't catch your ear

When there's no tension, then there's no passion

It won't hold my attention, I guess I'm old-fashioned

I hate it when my ears are not surprised

That's when you know the composition's compromised

The piano has been monetized

All those fingers trying to hit the sweet spot

They've been Spotified

Catalog with the Grammy nod

Piano God, I'm not mad at all

I got entire albums at a hundred million streams

Which means I keep 'em listening

And you

A slave to the playlist

Face it, you're faceless

Your label's a rapist

Your music leaves no traces

Nobody loves it or hates it

And your status is so swagless

The saddest part is that your art creates no addicts

You're in a musical prison

Nobody's choosing to listen

There's a new algorithm

It's pitching your pieces

To someone in their kitchen trying to finish their thesis

Oh no, they say they love you but they lie

Your stats will stay high the more you sound like AI

Your wafer-thin songs are vapor

You are not a painter

You are wallpaper

And do not @ me

'Cause I am not peaceful

Your math doesn't add up

'Cause we are not equals

In your Philip Glass mask, amateur

Welcome to my neoclassical massacre

Peaceful piano, pitiful

Arpeggios, unoriginal

Stereo-typical

Sounds like you're typing three chords on a digital keyboard

I call you mini-me

You call it minimal

And your performance is conformist

I cringe at all those pictures of your piano in the forest

You say you take your inspiration from nature

But there's nothing faker than seeing you play on a glacier

You told your camera crew to make it look organic

Oh, your piano suddenly appeared as if by magic?

You posted a sunset, but the sky is cloudy

You're not Einaudi

You are Zwei-naudi

And if you wonder who I'm talking to

Well, it's probably you because it's all you

And if you're offended, call my manager

The number's 1-800-neoclassical massacre